


heaven help a fool who falls in love

by snowy_angela



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Amy Santiago Loves Jake Peralta, Bisexual Jake Peralta, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jake Peralta Loves Amy Santiago, Jake Peralta has ADHD, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Protective Jake Peralta, adding tags as we go along, again never mentioned, like i'm warning you now guys, not even mentioned once but its just there, very tropey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 17:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30025032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowy_angela/pseuds/snowy_angela
Summary: “I’m fine.”“That explains why you basically passed out on your desk.”“I didn’t pass out,” she explained, “I was just closing my eyes.”“Yeah sure you were,” he retorted, his tone mocking, “That’s why you were just completely ignoring me.”“I wasn’t ignoring you because I’m tired, I was ignoring you because you’re annoying.”Title from "Ophelia" by The Lumineers
Relationships: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	heaven help a fool who falls in love

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, this is the first bit of fanfiction I've ever written, so any comments and kudos mean the world to me!
> 
> Set sometime around mid-season 1.  
> Also, hopefully updates should be about once every couple of weeks, but obviously this will change depending on the amount of school work I have due.

“Santiago.”

“Santiago.”

“Amy?”

“Amy?”

Jake’s voice rang out across the bullpen, the old lightbulbs giving the room a gentle, yellow glow. It was the middle of the night, and everyone else had gone home, leaving just Jake and Amy sitting in their squeaky chairs, desperately trying to solve the new murder case that had just come in earlier that day. This case was particularly demanding, mainly due to the lack of evidence, and also because of the fact that the murderer would love to dismember the bodies, so much so that the victim’s faces would be unrecognisable. “ _Gross”_ Jake couldn't help but think to himself as he tried to get Amy’s attention. Her shift had started at 8 am that morning, so she had been at the precinct for much longer than he had. This was evident in her appearance, with large bags under her eyes, and hair pulled back into a messy bun just at the nape of her neck. Her huge “nerd glasses”, which was what Jake had recently taken to calling them, framed her face, giving her an overall dishevelled look, which was not helped by the old NYPD sweatshirt she was wearing. Her eyes were barely able to stay open, but Jake knew that she was the most dedicated detective in the precinct (himself included), so it was no surprise that she was still working _8 hours_ after her shift had ended.

“Detective Santiago,” Jake said, lowering his voice and doing his best Holt impression. It had the desired effect, and Amy’s suddenly sat up straight, looking around frantically for Captain Holt. Her eyes roamed the room, _she was nearly caught slacking at work_ , until she caught sight of Jake, trying to cover his giggles ( _which he was not doing very well_ she noted). Her face morphed into a combination of boredom and annoyance, and she rolled her eyes as far back as they would go, turning back to her case files which were strewn across her normally organized desk.

“What do you want now, Peralta?” she drawled, staring at the piece of paper in front of her. “ _This case is pointless_ ” she thought as she tried (and failed) to stifle a huge yawn that was escaping her lips, throwing her arms up into the air in the process.

“Go home Santiago.”

“No.”

“ _Santiago._ ”

“I’m fine.”

“That explains why you basically passed out on your desk.”

“I didn’t _pass out_ ,” she explained, “I was just closing my eyes.”

“Yeah _sure you were,_ ” he retorted, his tone mocking, “That’s why you were just completely ignoring me.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you because I’m tired, I was ignoring you because you’re annoying.”

“ _Amy!_ ” he gasped, bringing a hand up to his chest in mock offence, “ _How dare you disrespect a superior officer!_ ”

She sighed in response, once again turning back to the murder case. The sensible voice in the back of her head was telling her to listen to Jake, and that she should go back home, but she really wanted to get this case solved, and, most importantly, impress Holt. He had been here for a while now, but anything she could do to impress an actual superior officer (not Peralta - they were both detectives), she would do.

“Come on Amy, at least let me take you home,” he pleaded.

“At least let me take you home, title of your sextape,” Amy muttered.

“Pathetic, Santiago. So what do you say?”

She paused for a second, staring at him, whilst mentally drawing a pros and cons list.

  
  
  


_Pros and Cons of letting Jake Peralta drive me home_

_Pros_

  * _I’m very tired_


  * _I won’t have to pay for the subway_


  * _I won’t have to walk alone at night_ (as much as she’s a cop, she’s also a woman, so sue her if she still gets nervous walking down the streets of New York at 2 am, especially when she’s unaccompanied)
  * _It’s a nice thing for him to do_



_Cons_

  * _His car smells like old cheese_


  * _He would hold this over her for ages - even more than when he won their bet a couple of weeks ago_


  * _He is super annoying all the time_ (“well not all the time” she thinks to herself, “he can actually be quite funny sometimes”)
  * _I might have a tiny crush on him_



Amy sighs as she mentally crosses out the final reason on her cons list, as if she, Amy Santiago, would have a crush on her immature and insensitive partner! He was childish, with the mentality of a 7-year-old, and okay, he was _quite cute_ , but that doesn’t mean that she likes him. He did not fit any of her criteria for a boyfriend: financially stable, mature, doesn’t break rules, clean, tidy, cares about being healthy. Anyone who had even heard of Jake Peralta would whole-heartedly agree that he was not any of them, in fact, he was the opposite of everything on her list. It would never work. _It wouldn’t._

“Fine,” she grumbled, slowly lifting her head off of her hand where it was previously resting, and starting to tidy up her desk.

“Yes!” said Jake, grabbing his stuff and throwing on his jacket. He made his way over to her desk, picking up her coat and bag, chattering away.

“You won’t believe what Harry from the third floor told me yesterday - that HR Jim doesn’t think Die Hard is the best cop movie! Can you believe it? After all these years, HR Jim has been lying to me about the most noblest of matters! Like, it’s Die Hard, c’mon man!” Jake babbled, walking her to the lift.

“No,” said Amy, desperately trying to stay awake.

“I know, so I went down to HR this morning and I was like-”

“No Jake, it’s not ‘most noblest’, it’s ‘most noble’,” she explained, exasperated at his lack of grammatical knowledge. They stepped inside the lift and waited as the lift began its descent. She could feel her eyelids becoming heavier every second that they weren't closed, and she tried to stifle yet another yawn, but to no avail. Jake saw her doing this and chuckled to himself. _She’s so cute_ he thought, watching the Latina trying to make him think that she was awake. A small ping and the sliding of the lift doors notified them that they had arrived on the ground floor, and the two stepped out and started making their way to the car park. They engaged in polite conversation, talking about their most recent cases, how Officer Cervantes from downstairs had been wearing the same outfit for 2 weeks now, and other trivial things that happened that week in the precinct that week. They reached his car, Jake running round to the passenger side to hold the door open for her, _it’s a caring, platonic thing that caring, platonic friends do_ she convinced herself. She slumped down into the old, leather seat, grimacing at the smell. He jumped into his side, turning the car into ignition, and started to pull out of his spot in the garage.

Amy sat with her cheek pressed against the partially rolled up window, staring at the dancing colours reflected in the glass. She had been so tired these past few weeks, what with her surplus of open cases, trying to earn Rosa’s respect ( _she’s scary, okay?_ ), and her mother constantly trying to set her up on dates. She loves her mother, she really does, but she does not appreciate how _involved_ she is in her daughter’s dating life. Obviously, as the only daughter, her parents were much stricter on her growing up and they have high expectations for her, and providing them with grandchildren is one of them. That reminds her, her mother was coming to stay with her in a couple weeks. But anyway, trying to explain to her mother why she doesn’t want to go on a date with her mother’s friend’s nephew for the fourth time is getting a bit tiring. Her eyelids started to feel extremely heavy, and they slowly feel closed of their own accord.

Jake pulled up outside her apartment complex, bringing his car to a slow and steady stop. He glanced over at the woman beside him, dozing peacefully while Taylor Swift played at a low volume. He pulled the keys out of the ignition, and turned to face her. He could gently wake her up, maybe gently shaking her or even whispering in her ear, but what would be the fun in that?

Jake slammed his hand down on his car horn as hard as he could, the loud wail piercing through the silence of New York City at 2am. Amy’s head jerked up, her hands flying straight towards her gun holster at her hip, and Jake trying (and failing) to contain his laughter.

“What the hell Jake!” Amy exclaimed.

“Oh my god, you should have seen your face! You looked so scared,” Jake wheezed.

“Not funny Peralta.”

“I’m pretty sure it was. Anyway, we’re at your place now.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, thanks for the ride.”

“No problemo, now that’s just gonna be $15.”

“Ha ha, Jake. You’re so funny.”

Amy climbed out her side of the car, picking up her purse which had been placed at her feet ( _I don’t remember putting it there_ ).

“Want me to walk you up?” he asked.

“No thanks, I’m good. Goodnight, Jake.”

“Night, Amy.”

And it’s only the next evening, as she’s responding to a text from her mother, that she sees all the stupid pictures that Jake took of her while she was sleeping. They were selfies, with him pulling the most over-exaggerated faces she had ever seen, and her sleeping soundly behind him in his dumb, beat-up Mustang.

**Author's Note:**

> Ta da! Wow my first work on here all done. I want to make this into an actual story with multiple chapters, I have a lot of ideas (including ALL the tropes), and I'm a sucker for pining and pre-relationship Peraltiago, so I thought why not start here? I hope you liked it :)  
> \- Angie


End file.
